


Manipulation With Malicious Intent

by tiredteentrying



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Angst, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, F/M, I don't know what I'm doing, I'll probably add more tags later, Kidnapping, Kinda, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Panic Attacks, Pansexual Bruce Banner, Possession, So does Clint, aroace clint barton, bruce has depression and anxiety, clint barton really needs a hug, cussing because they're adults and stressed, don't trust the evil shadow man, how tags, much angst, not graphic tho, some violence, this is my first fic on here, thor and bruce are g a y
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 13:41:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20694482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredteentrying/pseuds/tiredteentrying
Summary: Clint and Bruce go crazy because there's this voice in their heads and they can't tell anybody about it! That's the best description I gotI made the bad guy up don't @ meI'm working on this with a friend!





	1. Chapter 1

There wasn’t anything wrong with him. There wasn’t. He was just..tired. That was it. That’s why he...imagined that. Right? There was no way that was real. Clint would never...ugh, it didn’t matter. He needed sleep. He slipped off his shoes, pulled off his socks, and...stood up. Went out..out….to the balcony. He didn’t know why, but he just...he needed to. Bruce adjusted his glasses as he silently closed the door behind him. He stood, staring at the sky, waiting. Didn’t notice the sun as it rose, didn’t notice Tony come to see him, didn’t notice the blanket now draped around his shoulders, a cup of coffee, now cold, sitting on the railing next to him, the tears streaming down his cheeks. He was completely removed from...from everything. He didn’t know what to do. This didn’t feel like a depressive episode. He could play it off as one, though. If he could move...he couldn’t move. Just like that, he was back to full awareness, eyes wide and taking in the now setting sun. He had stood there for nearly a full day. And he couldn’t move.  
\---  
It was just a nightmare. There’s no way that… that he would…. It didn’t matter. Just a regular ol’ nightmare. And yet… it felt so real. Standing over him, bow drawn, the look of horror on -- No. Stop thinking about it. Get up and make yourself some coffee, you’ll feel better. Clint continued to stare at the ceiling for who knows how long, certainly not him, until finally getting up to make himself his much-needed cup of coffee. Or cups of coffee. Clint trudged into the kitchen and went about making himself some coffee. His mind was blank, he was running completely on autopilot. If he thought about it, he would probably remember drinking his coffee while blankly staring at the wall, then rinsing it out in the sink and heading back to his room. Clint never rinsed his things in the sink. It was one of his defining features. But because Clint wasn’t thinking at all at the moment, he didn’t remember anything from taking his mug down from the cabinet and sitting in his bed, reading a note he had found left on his nightstand. He had to read it a couple of times to comprehend what it was saying. ‘Bee's doing that thing again can u help him he's on the balcony’ the note read, in what looked like Tony’s handwriting. After blinking at the note for a few more seconds, Clint shook his head and swung his legs off the bed. Why am I so out of it today? Snap out of it Barton! He thought to himself as he headed up to the balcony.  
\---  
**_Wait._** The cold voice echoed in Bruce’s head.**_ You have to wait._** His attempt to get up, go somewhere else, do something, had ended with him sitting on the floor, leaning against the railing and staring at the shards of the broken coffee cup in front of him. His head raised slowly as the door slid open and Clint sat down next to him. Bruce managed a half-smile.  
“H’llo.”  
“Hey, there, green bean, how you doing?”  
“I’m great.” A pause. “What’s happening to me, Feathers?”  
Clint pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, resting his head on his knees. “I don’t know Bruce. I don’t know.”  
**_Stand up._**  
Clint looked up at Bruce with bleary eyes. “You good there, man?”  
“Clint..” Bruce struggled to keep control of himself as he stood up. “Clint, what…”  
Clint stood up after him, a little warily, reaching out halfway to Bruce like he wasn’t sure whether he should touch him.**_ Good boys. Smart boys. Shoot the camera._** Bruce was bordering on full-blown panic as the voice drowned out all other sounds. He attached himself to the railing, staring at the security camera like it was a device made to kill him. **_Shoot the camera, Clint. Shoot it._ **Clint froze at the voice in his head, but then slowly moved to grab his bow from where it was leaning against the wall by the door and nocked an arrow to the string. _What are you doing?!_ He thought frantically as he raised his arm to the camera and pulled back the string to his mouth. _Stop! Stop it right now! For god’s sake, Clint put down the freaking bow._ Exhale, release. The camera shattered and the glass fell to the floor. Bruce made a small squeak-like sound. _**Good. Very nice. Both of you, stand tall. I don’t want to see you slouching.**_ The scientist shook as he took his hands off the railing, moving to stand up properly.  
“Feathers-”  
“Bruce- what’s- what's happening? Bruce, please what is going on??” Clint said, panic clear in his voice.  
“I- I- I don’t- Clint- I- it’s in my head- I can’t-” The shorter man was struggling to keep his heart rate down.  
“Whoever you are, stop! Get the FUCK out of our heads!!!”  
**_Oh, but you’re so fun to mess with!_** Bruce was very close to an incident, he pressed his hands into his eyes, he hunkered down, and...**_sleep._** He collapsed.  
“FUN TO MESS WITH?? I’LL SHOW YOU FUN TO MESS WITH YOU SON OF A BITCH!” He whipped around as he heard Bruce’s body hit the floor. “Bru!!” Clint rushed over and checked his pulse, which was thankfully steady. **_Pick him up. Bring him to me_**. Completely unable to control his actions, Clint picked Bruce up and threw him over his back. Once he was secure, Clint shot a grapple arrow to the next building, then jumped over the balcony, one arm wrapped around Bruce’s legs making sure he didn’t fall. And just like that, they were gone.**_ Good boy. Smart, smart boy. Come to me._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is a bad guy he's bad   
bruce is adorable when he's half-asleep 
> 
> In which I butcher Portuguese and hope it's ok

**_Wake up. We have work to do, my darling boys. Come on. My Pássaro. Up._** Clint blinked his eyes open and lifted his head. He was lying on the floor of a large, dimly lit room. Clint shivered as he rose to a sitting position from the freezing ground and rubbed his arms. He stretched, wincing as he heard his spine crack from the stiffness of lying on the rough concrete. Clint took a deep breath and sneezed, causing dust to fly everywhere. He looked around, eyes adjusting to the weak lighting and taking in all the old machinery. Some of it looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. He heard the clinking of metal and looked up to see long chains hanging from the ceiling, which seemed to be close to caving in. There were also lightbulbs hanging down from various places, flickering in an unsettling way. And, was ... was that blood on the walls? Clint shivered again, but this time not from the cold. Pieces of cracked concrete littered the ground, which simply reinforced Clint’s fear that the ceiling was about to collapse. The air was dry and musty- Clint could pick up the faint smell of oil. Probably from the old machines.

The silence was deafening, but wait, was that breathing? Clint whipped around, looking for the source of the sound, and took a sharp inhale when he saw Bruce lying on the ground a few feet away. He was sprawled out like he’d been thrown to the floor, his glasses lying broken by his head. His eyes were almost open, and his breathing- his- he sounded so awful, it was like every ragged inhale was sure to be his last. Clint rushed over and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, Bee.” He murmured. “Wake up.” He didn’t. “Bruce!” Clint said a little more forcefully, “Come on, you need to get up! We have to get out of here…”

**_Oh, let the Pequeno Gênio rest for a little longer, Pássaro._** The voice echoed through the empty room. Clint jumped to his feet and did a 360 turn, taking in the entire room only to see it was just as empty and abandoned as before. “Where are you!” He practically screamed, “What do you want with us!!” There was a shuffling sound from his feet. Slowly, Bruce rose from where he was on the floor, appearing to be lifted by some outside force. Everything around the pair darkened, making it impossible to see anything 5 feet from where they were. The smaller of the two landed lightly on his feet, still limp. He just stood there for the longest three seconds of Clint’s life, then he reached out, putting a cold hand on the archer’s arm. He looked at Clint with dead eyes and smiled. **“Power.”** Clint yelped and jerked back, knocking Bruce’s arm away. “What the fu- GET OUT OF MY FRIEND” Not-Bruce’s smile widened. **“Alright.” **

Everything went black. There was a loud thud. When the light returned, Bruce had crumpled and was laying on the floor once again. Clint scrambled over and knelt down beside him. After a moment’s hesitation, he once again placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

“Bee! Wake up!” He pleaded. Bruce responded with a pained groan, reaching up to push Clint away like he did when he didn’t want to get up in the morning.

“G’way. Don’ wanna.” “Bruce. We are in an old scary looking warehouse and you got possessed for a second and we need to leave right now.” He rolled over, not opening his eyes.

“B’llsh’t. Don’ wanna g’t ‘p” He slurred.

“Bruce I swear to god- ok. If you’re not going to get up, I’ll carry you.” Clint bent down and scooped Bruce up, bridal style. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Nooo,” If they weren’t likely to die any minute, this would be adorable. **_My Girassol. Stop complaining._** Bruce froze, actually opening his eyes. Once he took in his surroundings, he all but leaped from Clint’s arms, breathing heavily. “You good there, man?” Clint asked cautiously. Bruce opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He shook his head weakly, shifting to a defensive stance.

** _ Aw, Girassol, eu assustei você? Really?_ **

“Me deixe só.” Bruce rasped, closing his eyes. “Who even are you?!” Clint yelled into the dark. There was a lengthy pause. Then the voice laughed, and it was a wicked, horrible laugh laced with so much malice that it seemed to steal all the air from the room. He laughed and laughed and it kept getting louder and louder and louder and louder and LOUDER--

Bruce screamed as he fell out of his bed, cracking his head on the floor. He struggled and eventually got free of the tangle of blankets around him, running to Clint’s room just to find him sitting up straight-backed in his own bed, eyes wild. **_Until next time, my beautiful boys._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portuguese Translations (approximately)   
Pássaro - bird  
Pequeno Gênio - Little Genius   
Girassol - sunflower   
eu assustei você - i scared you/did i scare you   
Me deixe só - leave me alone 
> 
> Tell me if I got those wrong and I will fix them! I don't actually know portuguese i'm sorry   
Comment!! Blease

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's so short! Please comment and tell me what you think!


End file.
